


Blind Justice

by Arnie



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-04
Updated: 2012-01-04
Packaged: 2017-10-28 22:35:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/312925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arnie/pseuds/Arnie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happened about John's ASBO?  A missing scene for Blind Banker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blind Justice

**Author's Note:**

> Includes one line from Blind Banker.

John turned over onto his back and stared up through the darkness.  He had a court date.  _He_ did.  He'd never been in trouble with the law in his life - not even in his tempestuous teen years.  But one month after meeting Sherlock, and here he was, facing an ASBO.  He hadn't even done anything!

Turning again, he tried to punch his pillow into a more comfortable shape, then thumped it again for good measure.  "Forget about your court date!"  Oh, yes, easy for Sherlock to say - _he_ wasn't facing an ASBO.

Then again, knowing Sherlock, he probably had a stack of them.

John checked the time on his watch again, then resolutely shut his eyes.  He had two hours before he had to get up; surely he could get some more sleep.

An hour later, he got up, and stamped his way downstairs, taking a delight in making noise.  The sound wouldn't reach Mrs. Hudson, but John reckoned that Sherlock deserved to be woken up.  If he had any finer feelings at all, he'd come to court with John and support him through his upcoming ordeal.  Even better, Sherlock would go and find that delinquent artist and drag him into court to prove John's total innocence in the matter.

An ASBO.  Him.

John's indignation kept him going through a long shower and back up the stairs again.  He managed to resist the urge to open Sherlock's bedroom door and start shouting about ASBOs, but only just.  How Sherlock could sleep was beyond John.

As it turned out, Sherlock wasn't asleep.  When John came back down again, he found his flatmate in the sitting room, his violin in his hands.

"Bored again, are we?" he enquired as he passed through to the kitchen.

Sherlock's snort of disgust told him everything.  "You're up early."

John gritted his teeth and fought off the almost overwhelming desire to throw the kettle at Sherlock.  "I have an appointment.  In court."  He stuck his head into the sitting room.  "Concerning an ASBO."

Sherlock looked surprised.  "You're not still going on about that, are you?"

John followed his head into the sitting room so he could stand over Sherlock and glare him into submission.  "It's today.  I have a court date."

"I told you to forget it."  Unsurprisingly, the glare bounced off him; Sherlock's entire attention was focussed on tuning his violin.

"I can't forget it!  If I don't turn up, they'll arrest me - and I'm sure Lestrade would love that!"

He looked up at that.  "You didn't give them your real name and address, did you?  That was foolish."

John could feel his blood pressure mounting.  "Unlike you, I don't have numerous fake IDs to hand in."  He went into the kitchen then came back out.  "Is that how you do it?  There's some poor bloke in Euston or Brixton who can't go anywhere because you climbed Big Ben and gave in his name and address?"

"I've never climbed Big Ben."

"Oh?  You surprise me.  Why haven't you?"

Sherlock looked thoughtful.  "I've never needed to."

John ground his teeth again as Sherlock turned his gaze back to his violin.  Forget tea, or coffee, or breakfast.  He really, really needed to get out and clear his head.  As he slammed the door behind him and stalked off down the stairs, he heard Sherlock's voice again, but ignored it.  At the moment, he didn't have the patience to deal with him.

~~~

By the time he reached the magistrates' court, John's anger had cooled to an irritated resentment.  The whole situation was entirely too stupid, but he couldn't see any way out of getting an ASBO.  He just hoped he wouldn't be banned from approaching listed buildings, or he could imagine Sherlock's indignation with that if a case took them into one.  Of course, the fact that John wouldn't be in danger of being arrested for violating his ASBO if Sherlock's expert on graffiti hadn't left him (literally) holding the can, wouldn't occur to Sherlock.  He'd simply rant, ignore John's reservations and demand John follow him in.  The worst of it was, John would.  And then promptly get arrested.  Again.

John sighed.  He could see himself ending up with a long string of ASBOs if this kept up.

The seats in the waiting area were all taken, so John leaned against a wall and waited, letting his gaze drift over the crowd.  There were a number of teenagers there, who mostly seemed to be attended by adults - parents in some cases, social workers, John guessed, in others.  As names were called, the crowd thinned out, their numbers gradually augmented by new arrivals.  Fortunately, John didn't have too long to wait before his name was called.

He went in, and took a seat in the dock as directed by the usher.  He'd expected three magistrates, but there was only one, an elderly man who stared at John over the rim of his glasses, disapproval on his face.

"Doctor John Watson," the clerk announced, handing a file to the magistrate.

The disapproval deepened.  "I would have thought a doctor would have better things to do," the magistrate said.

John didn't reply.  He really didn't think the court would accept "I was holding it for a friend" as an excuse.  Instead, he occupied himself with following the usher's instructions.

As soon as John had sworn to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth (not that the court would believe it), the file was flipped open, and the magistrate gazed at it, his eyebrows rising.  "Hmm.  Case dismissed."

"What?"  John stared at the magistrate, who ignored him, then the usher, who shrugged.

Confused, relieved, and feeling faintly shell-shocked, John followed the usher to the door and left, turning in the waiting room to look at the door.  That had been surprising.

"We have a body," Sherlock said in his ear.

John jumped and swung around.  "Uh...what?"

"A body, a dead body."  Sherlock gazed at him as if expecting some kind of reply, then he added, "Well, we don't but Lestrade does.  He's keeping it for us.  Come on."

"But..."  John gazed at Sherlock's back as he stalked off down the corridor, then stared at the door.  "Did you...  _How_ did you -"

"Come _on_ , John!"

John shrugged, giving it up as a bad job, then hurried to catch up with Sherlock.  Maybe Mycroft had stepped in, who knew?  At least John was ASBO-free.  For the time being, anyway.


End file.
